Drop Dead Fred is BACK!
by Chirusea
Summary: Elizabeth's grandaughter inherits the imaginary friend from hell...=) R+R please!!!!


Whoa. Lots of time spent NOT updating this, huh? It's been over a year, and sorry folks, you'll have to wait a teeny bit longer. BUT, I did go through it and spellcheck it and make it all pretty for you. So onward with my crappy last-years-writing!  
  
Prologue  
  
"You can go in and see her now." the nurse led the mother and daughter into the  
white hospital room. Natalie ran to her stepmother's side, while her small daughter stood  
back and watched from the doorway.   
  
"Oh mom! Elizabeth. How are you feeling?"   
  
Natalie frantically looked over Elizabeth's small, frail body.  
  
"I'm fine, Nat. Just fine. Now...where is that granddaughter of mine?" she weakly  
smiled and searched the room, finally spotting her in the doorway, shifting uneasily at the  
sight of all the IV's and bedpans. "C'mere Chelsea, come over here so I can tell you about how much you've grown."   
  
Chelsea slowly shuffled over to her grandmother's side, still eying the IV bag  
curiously as it dripped into Elizabeth. "Hi Lizzie! Whatcha' doin' with that baggy? Are you  
drinkin' Kool-Aid or somethin'?" the now cheerful 5-year-old grabbed onto the bed and  
clumsily hoisted herself up.  
  
"Chelsea Elizabeth Bunce! What have I told you about using slang? And don't  
slouch like that, it makes you look like you've been raised by wolves." Natalie  
straightened her daughter's back and started wiping her cheeks and mouth. "I swear, you're  
never clean..."  
  
"Oh come off it Nat, she's only a kid. And you know what they say; you're only a kid  
once. Although there always was... nevermind, darling. She's a five year old, let her be one.  
God knows my mother didn't...." Elizabeth smiled and hugged the little girl tightly.  
  
"Grandma, what were you like when you were five?"   
  
Chelsea cuddled up to her grandma and rested her head on Elizabeth's chest. "Well, lets see...I was very rambunctious-much like you-and I was always getting into trouble..." she laughed when she remembered those times so long ago. "We once-"   
  
"We? We who?" Chelsea asked, looking up at Elizabeth.   
  
"Oh.... me and-me and....Fred."   
  
"Fred who? Tell me! Oh.... was he a boyfriend?"  
  
She giggled cutely.   
  
"No, no...But he sure was one hell of an imaginary friend."   
  
"Mother! Don't talk like that in front of Chelsea! She's very impressionable at this  
age!" "Oh piss off..." "-Off" they heard an echo. Chelsea and Elizabeth had said 'piss off'  
at the same time. Natalie stared appalled at her mother and daughter. She turned to  
Chelsea. "Where in the world did you hear that?" she demanded. "Granma..." Chelsea  
said quietly. Natalie looked stunned at Elizabeth. "Really mother! Do you have to act like  
that in front of her? Do you have to act this way? With her? In your condition? You are  
not a little girl anymore-"  
  
"Natie, then stop treating me like one-"  
  
"Well if you would stop acting like one maybe I-"  
  
"God, you sound just like my mother-"  
  
"Don't bring Grandma Polly into this, Grandma Polly was a great and well respected  
woman in her day-"  
  
"Oh shut up Natalie. Ever since Mickey died-  
  
"Don't you dare even think of bringing daddy into this! He loved you! He loved you so  
much that he would have given up everything for you! Everything!"  
  
"What do you think I am? An idiot? I know he loved me! And I loved him...." she sighed  
heavily and quickly wiped her eyes.   
  
"I think it's time we leave grandma, Chelsea. She needs her rest. Say goodbye."  
  
Chelsea had been listening to her mother and grandmother go at each others'  
throats for the past ten minutes, and finally decided that this was a bad time to tell the new  
'knock-knock' joke she had come up with about bedpans and IV's. So she slowly moved  
up and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek and hugged her tightly, dropped off the bed, and  
waved goodbye. "Take a good look sweetie, don't be expecting to see grandma anytime  
soon." Natalie mumbled as she dragged her daughter behind her.  
  
***************  
( 7 years later )  
  
"Chelsea! Time to get up! School!" Natalie yelled up the stairway, waiting  
impatiently for her daughter. Chelsea mumbled something incoherent. "What was that?"  
"I'm freaking home schooled, why do I have to wake up at freaking five freaking thirty?"  
She mumbled again, then yelled in response, "I was just saying how much I'm looking  
forward to my lessons, Mother!" she tried to sound sweet. "Are you mouthing me? You  
better not be mouthing me, young lady!" her mother snapped, her mood changing in an  
instant.  
  
"No, Mother, I was not mouthing you. I'm truly looking forward to them.  
Honest." "Oh. Well.... hurry up; your breakfast is getting cold!  
  
Chelsea rolled out of bed and took off her top, jerking it over her head and let it  
fall to the floor, while she searched the room for her school uniform. "And don't even  
think about leaving your nightwear on the floor! Otherwise they'll be no more piano  
lessons for a week!" "Yes, Mother." she grabbed her shirt and stuffed it into her dresser.  
"Don't stuff it either!" "Yes Mother." she opened the drawer and folded the shirt.   
  
Quickly running to the closet, she opened it and reached for her Catholic-type  
fashioned uniform. A white polo shirt with a short, navy blue jumper. "Mother insists on  
wearing a uniform. Says it builds character and administers discipline. Character my ass.  
All they are are itchy and stupid. Dumb old bird." Chelsea began talking to herself.  
"Ohmigod. I've been reduced to talking to myself. Look at me," she looked into her full  
body-length mirror. "I'm talking to myself like a total looney. No school, no friends, no  
life. No mental capability. No nothing."   
  
"Move your a-rear, Chelsea! Or else you're grounded!" Natalie hollered once more,  
irritated to the extreme. "Coming Mother!" she dropped her voice again. "It s'not like  
being grounded would make a difference anyways...." tugging on her Mary Jane's, she  
flew down the staircase.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"No no no, Chelsea. Like this." Natalie placed her fingers on the piano keys and  
started to play Beethoven's 'Fur Elise'. "Oh." "Oh? I help you and correct your mistakes  
and you say, 'Oh'?" "Thank you, Mother." she replied quietly. "There, that's a good girl.  
Now go into the den and practice your equations." "Yes Mother." Chelsea silently slid off  
the piano bench and headed toward the den.  
  
"Be a good girl, Chelsea, do your equations, no Chelsea, like this-God-she won't  
stop controlling me. She says I need discipline. Responsibility. What a pile of shit."  
  
Grabbing her math textbook and notebook, she sauntered over to her wooden desk  
and sat down, flipping both books open to search for the right pages to do. After looking  
over the problems she was to do, she sighed heavily and took off her glasses. (She prefers  
to wear them instead of contacts, but she does have contacts, just in case she wants to use  
them)  
  
"Being advanced sucks. Always doing math. Science. Social Studies. Herbology.  
Chemistry. Theology. English Literature. It's all too boring. Not necessarily hard, but  
definitely boring."  
  
She then began the problems, and within five minutes, had finished each and every  
one of the one hundred and thirty two of them. Sighing yet again, she closed the books  
and lazily looked around the familiar den. The den, the house, where her grandmother  
Lizzie had spent most of her childhood playing in. She didn't know whom she had played  
with, but whoever it was, they must have had a lot of fun. Stains of all shapes and colors  
adorned the white rug. Orange juice, ink, paint, and one that could only be described as  
the remains of dogpoo.  
  
Just thinking about her grandmother made her sad, and yet, it made her happy too.  
Elizabeth had told her all about when she was little and how much fun she had had with  
her best friend.... although she never did tell her who it was...  
  
(You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? Hmmm? Yes...I thought so.... heheh...)  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Goodnight, Chelsea. Get some sleep, because tomorrow's Saturday, and you  
know what that means. Weed pulling and planting. Won't that be fun?" "Oh yes, Mother.  
I sure hope I can get some rest, because I'm ever-so looking forward to it!" "Well, you  
better. Now, goodnight." Natalie turned off the light and shut the bedroom door. "Yuck,"  
Chelsea made a face. "Weeding. One of the worst things to do on a Saturday." she  
thought about it and turned over. "No," she said thoughtfully. "It is the worst thing to do  
on a Saturday."  
  
Yawning, she closed her eyes slowly and took in the room around her. It was  
Elizabeth's old room. Same white sheets, same yellow bedspread, same wallpaper, and  
even some of her old toys decorated the room. A pile of them sat in the left corner of it,  
containing of old dolls and teddy bears, a badly beaten up and torn monkey, an old  
jack-in-the-box, an entire town of Barbies and accessories, and a bunch of other random  
toys that served no use.   
  
Chelsea finally shut her eyes, before tears could well up in them. I will not cry, I  
will not cry, she thought. Crying is for babies and I am certainly not a baby.  
  
Forcing the tears the back, she managed to keep them from forming and falling.  
Push them down, Chelsea; push all your feelings down. She shakily took a deep breath in,  
and breathed it out as a huge sigh. I miss you Lizzie.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *   
  
The darkness of the room was pitch black. No nightlight (too old for that) No  
close streetlights. Not a light source anywhere. And yet, light started to pour into the  
room and reflect off the full-length mirror in Chelsea's room. The light steadily grew,  
starting from a dull, dim glow to almost blinding. "Wha?" was Chelsea's reaction to this as  
she groggily sat up and squinted at it. "What the hell?" her vision became clearer as her  
eyes began to focus. She quickly glanced at the door. Still closed, no hall light on. She  
turned her attention back to the mirror.  
  
It had started move. Change. Deform. The glass began to ripple, like a sea of  
crystal liquid. Small waves. Slowly pulling the covers off her, Chelsea stepped onto the  
floor and moved forward. As she got closer to the mirror, the wavier it seemed to become.  
Soon she was standing right in front of it, reaching out to touch it.  
  
BAM! Chelsea was knocked five feet back and landed on her bed with a soft  
thump.   
  
"'Allo Snotface!" "Aaaaaahhhh!" she screamed at the figure laying on top her.  
"Aaaaahhhh!" the figure screamed also, falling off the edge of the bed. "Who the fuck are  
you?" Chelsea stared, stunned, eyes as big as saucers, even in the dark. "Snotface! It's  
me! Fred! Hey...waitaminute...your not Snotface! What have you done with her? What  
have you done with my Snotface?!" the figure pounced at her, and missed terribly as she  
dived for the floor. Scrambling to the doorway, she leaped at the light switch and turned it  
on, not believing what she saw.  
  
  
There, on her bed, rubbing the spot on his head that had hit her wall, was a (badly  
cut) red haired, green striped jacketed, yellow trousered, candy apple red shoed man.  
Forgetting that he had just come through her mirror, she smartly remarked, "Where the  
hell did you get dressed? In the dark? Oh-no, wait. Where did you get them?  
Perverts-R-Us?"  
  
Freakazoid sat there for a second, stunned, letting everything sink in, and stared at  
Chelsea. His face then contorted into a very, very mad expression. "You little Megabitch!"  
He stood up on her bed. Chelsea gasped in surprise, then shot back, "Pervy!" "Bogey bum!"  
"Jackass!" she hurled a stuffed rabbit at him. It missed. "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah! You  
missed me! Ha ha, what a Mega-"   
  
Chelsea, now furious at this freaky haired pervert, decided to throw her portable  
CD player at him. He, of course, was too busy prancing about to notice, thus was caught  
off guard. Majorly. The CD player hit him square in the forehead. Thunk! Clatter! The red  
haired freak toppled over again onto the floor, this time noticeably unconscious.   
  
"That'll teach that pervert.... thinks he can just come in here and...and.....hey....hey?  
Hey, are you okay?" Chelsea crossed the room slowly and climbed back onto her bed, and  
peered cautiously over the edge. Pervert-boy lay sprawled out, his arms and legs in  
would-be painful positions if he were awake. "Uh.... hello? Um.... mister? Pervy?" she  
squeaked. "Hey! Pervy! Wake up!" she moved onto the floor and started to shake him.  
"Frrrreeeaaakkkaaazzziiiiooodd, waaakkkkeee uuupppp." Suddenly, she had a brilliant  
plan.  
"Hey...I have a brilliant plan! (What'd I tell you?) Oh wait...need to get him on  
the bed. It'll give me more running space...," she thought aloud. "God, I really need to  
stop doing that."  
  
Getting behind him, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him upwards. Then, she  
gently (he still is human after all, and he did get hit in the head with a CD player.) lifted  
him onto her bed, straightening him so that his head was on her pillow. "Wonder what  
that's gonna smell like tomorrow night.." she mumbled. He looks so calm and peaceful,  
Chelsea thought. Hehehe.... all the more reason to do it! (Well, hey, he also did call her a  
Megabitch!)  
  
She grabbed her glass filled with water off her nightstand and flashed a devious  
smile.  
  
SPLASH!  
  
Chelsea threw the water onto his face. "ACK! Aaaaahhh! Man all decks! Lower  
the lifeboats! Save meeeee!!!!" Truly freaked out, he looked about the room in a panic,  
searching, trying to find the tidal wave. But he only found Chelsea snickering at the end of  
the bed, trying to muffle her giggles. Dripping, soaked, and wet, he flopped his arms to his  
sides in frustration and confusion. "I don't know why I try anymore. Snotface needs me,  
they told me she was here, and I try to find out where she is because she isn't here, and  
instead I get hit in the head with.... with that." he grimaced and pointed at the CD player  
on the floor. "Then with out any warning, I get hit with a tidal wave! It wasn't suppose to  
go like this...I was expecting Elizabeth, with her goofy girly smile and her stupid haircut  
and her icky perfume that smells.... like roses." he seemed to enjoy that memory, because  
he was sniffing. Chelsea couldn't believe it. The pervert was on the verge of crying!  
  
"I-I mean, when they tell you somebody's th-there, they're there!" he looked  
hopelessly about the room again. "And then you get all soaking wet from a gigantic wave  
and hit straight in the head w-w-with a h-h-hard-" "CD player?" Chelsea ended softly.  
  
"A whatever. The point is, is that they are never, ever ever wrong." "Who?" she  
climbed onto the damp bed, which made him cringe visibly. "No, no, I'm not going to  
throw anything else at you."   
  
He looked at her warily. "P-promise?" he held out his pinky. "Uh...yeah. Promise."  
She held out hers and they linked them, and shook on it. "So...who? Who is never wrong?"  
  
"Them. The people who sent me."  
  
  
******************  
  
Chelsea sat there, on the bed, perplexed. She couldn't figure it out. This chaotic  
freak came through her mirror. Supposedly sent by somebody. He also demands to see her  
dead grandmoth-wait.   
  
"Who did you say you wanted?"   
  
He looked at her with annoyance. "Snotface. Snotface." "Yeah yeah, but-you had  
said another name...does Snotface have another name? You know, like Mary or Susan  
or-" "Yes yes, she does.... terribly boring and stupid name...Elizabeth."   
  
Chelsea gasped. "Yeah, I know. Horrible, isn't it? I don't know what the  
Megabitch was thinking when she named her...."  
  
"Elizabeth." Chelsea breathed. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." she began  
repeating the words like a chant. She ran over to her desk and snatched a picture frame off  
it.   
  
"Is this Snotface?" Chelsea shoved the frame into the stranger's hands. His face  
brightened instantly. "Elizabeth! Snotface! That's her! Where'd you get this? Hey...where  
is she? WHERE is SHE?" he threw the picture frame onto the floor, breaking the glass.  
"Oooo, I love those breaking noises..." he mumbled satisfactorily. She looked at him  
oddly for a moment. "Huh?"  
  
"Nevermind you. I need to find Elizabeth and I need to find her now!"  
  
"Yeah, well, I can't help you if I don't know who you are!"  
  
"That's none of your business!"  
  
"But if you must know.... Drop Dead Fred. What's yours? Megabitch Jr.?" " It's  
Chelsea. Now. Hmm..... okay. Just to make sure your..you know, real, I'm gonna ask you  
some questions, alright?"  
  
"Whatever you want...Miss Megabitch..." "Okay.... uh.... how old will Elizabeth be  
on the fifteenth?" "Oh that's so easy!" he waved his hand nonchalantly. "Twenty-six.  
Duh!"   
  
Oh no, Chelsea thought. He thinks she's only twenty-five. And she's actually dead!  
That mean it must have been...fifty-six years since he's seen her! Holy shit! And he still  
thinks she's alive! Oh no....how am I going to tell him?  
  
But Chelsea didn't have time to ask any more questions, because Drop Dead Fred  
had started to smash her lamp with a crowbar.   
  
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She yelled, perplexed and very  
mad.  
  
Fred looked at her in confusion, like he was just watching a nice T.V. program and  
someone had suddenly smashed the telly. "What?" he asked innocently, mid-swing.  
Chelsea took a deep breath. "What.... are you doing...to my room?" she gestured towards  
the now broken lamp, the large gashes along her walls, and the huge hole in her bed.  
  
"I'm just redecorating."   
  
"Just redecorating? How do you call this redecorating? I don't want my room  
redecorated! Or demolished! I like it just the way it is! And give me that crowbar!"  
  
"Why? Are you going to smash something?" he asked happily and handed over the  
crowbar.  
  
"Yes, actually. Your head!" she took a swing that he easily ducked out of, and  
ended up hitting her closet door instead.  
  
"Ha! Missed me again! And now you'll have to catch me if you can!" Fred grabbed  
the doorknob and flung the door open. "House! Prepare to be redecorated!"  
  
"No! No more redecorating! No! Fred! Come back!"  
  
Before Drop Dead Fred headed for the stairway, he wretched away the crowbar,  
and instead of going down them, he decided to go down the railing instead.  
"Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!" he yelled happily. Chelsea ran/fell down the stairs, and couldn't hold  
onto the railing because, well, there was no railing, because Fred had smashed the  
supports with the crowbar on his way down.  
  
Suddenly, Fred came to a very abrupt stop with a loud 'crunch'.   
  
"Argh.... owwww.... who put that there?" he pointed to the familiar railing  
post between his legs. "What are you talking about? That's always been there."  
  
"Well, then. I think it's time for a change then, don't you?" And with that said,  
Fred proceeded to take the crowbar and started whacking the post with it. "What the hell  
are you doing?" Chelsea cried out in shock, then began to wish she hadn't. It had been  
one loud scream too many.   
  
"Chelsea! What are you doing down there?" Natalie's enraged voice came from  
upstairs, followed by a door slamming.  
  
"Uh oh." Fred muttered quickly. Without even having time to react, let alone  
protest, Drop Dead Fred shoved the crowbar into Chelsea's hands and took off into the  
living room, peeking his entire head obviously over the side of the frame.  
  
Natalie's form took place at the top of the stairs.   
  
Chelsea waited with bated breath. Natalie cried out in shock (or horror, Chelsea  
couldn't tell, but it didn't matter anyways) and silently went down the stairway and ran her  
fingers alongside the ruined supports. "Ah...no...what...God....holy...my..." Natalie  
couldn't form a full sentence properly, but then her eyes shifted onto her daughter.   
  
"You."  
  
Gulp. "Y-yes, m-m-mother. I-it doesn't look like i-it seems." she weakly tried to  
laugh. Clearing her throat in embarrassment, she continued. "Well, you know, it's k-kinda  
funny, you know, and, you know, it-"  
  
"What were you thinking! How on Earth could you do this? Why..." she  
shook her head in disbelief.   
  
"Wait. It was him." Chelsea quickly went over to Fred, and started yanking him  
forward. "No, no! What're you, a looney? No, I don't want to go! You can't make me!"  
Fred struggled against Chelsea's grip, but she held on with a steely hand.  
  
"It was him." she repeated, shoving Fred in front of Natalie, but still held onto him.  
  
"Him who?"  
  
"Him! This red haired freak in front of you! I'm holding him right now! He's right  
here, can't you see him?" Chelsea asked in confusion. Fred cringed in front of Natalie  
with his eyes closed. "Who? I don't see anybody! That's thin air! There's nothing there!"  
  
"But...he...he's right h-here!" Chelsea let out a weak reply, shaking his jacket  
violently.  
  
"Oh my God...." Natalie said under her breath. "It's finally happened....my  
daughter is a lunatic..."  
  
"I'M NOT A LUNATIC!!! HE'S RIGHT HERE!" she yelled hoarsely. "Fred is  
right here! He's...right..here...can't you see...him?" Tears started running down her  
cheeks. "He's...right...here..." she shaked him again, gripping the jacket tightly still.  
  
Natalie put on her best Your-going-insane-I'm-taking-you-to-the-nuthouse-voice and  
sweetly talked to her daughter.  
  
"Honey, I think it's time for you to go back to bed, alright? Here, I'll go make you  
a nice cup of warm milk and-"  
  
"I'M NOT INSANE!"   
  
"Alright, honey, whatever you say. " Natalie gently picked up the crying little girl,  
still gripping Fred's jacket, and started up the stairs. Chelsea still held onto the jacket.  
Fred started to choke. "Bratrat! Ch-chelsea! L-let...go...quickly.." Fred's voice was  
strangled and muffled. He tried to rip Chelsea's hand off his jacket, but failed miserably.   
  
Chelsea suddenly remembered she was still holding onto Fred's coat. She looked  
over her mother's shoulder and saw him blue in the face, struggling to breathe and remove  
her hand. She quickly let go, afraid of what he would do when he recovered.  
  
Fred didn't even have enough time to breathe, because he was suddenly falling down the stairs backwards, and sent sprawling onto the floor at the bottom.  
  
"Owww..." he mumbled silently as he passed out.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chelsea took a deep breath between her throat-wracking sobs. She was a thirteen year old crying like a three year old. "Man... I should be outta' tears by now...I've already cried twice tonight." she laughed mildly. Two times out of the two million times before.  
  
"Knock knock," came Natalie's voice on the other side of the door. Too sweet, Chelsea thought. Fake. Afraid. Afraid that her daughter is going crazy. Just like her father.  
  
Natalie opened the door slowly, careful not to make it squeak too much. "I said, knock knock, aren't you going to answer me?"  
  
Ah. Same mum.   
  
"'Ello modder, you can come din." Chelsea mumbled into her pillow.  
  
Fred peeked his way into the doorway and looked at Natalie in disgust as she put the healthy snack-filled plate and milk on Chelsea's desk. Sliding inward, he made his way to the closet on the opposite side of the room.  
  
"I was afraid you had-"  
  
"Gone crazy?"  
  
"-fallen...asleep." Natalie trailed off, a bit shocked.  
  
"It's alright mother, you can tell me. Your afraid that I've gone nuts, don't you? You're afraid that you'd have to pay an unexpected visit to Dad, didn't you? You know, back at that spooky, scary place that you dumped Dad? Oh..what was it  
called.... oh, I know. The sanitarium." Chelsea turned over and looked at her mom, standing at the foot of her bed. Natalie swallowed loudly and sat down on Chelsea's bed. "Look honey...your delirious. You know that isn't true-"  
  
"And yet somehow I know it isn't false, either!" Chelsea yelled.  
  
" How dare you talk to me that way! Your father was idiotic and irresponsible! How was I suppose to survive with all the extra expenses he had for all his condition-"  
  
"So it was about money?"  
  
"No! I have had about enough of this, young lady! You are grounded." Natalie flared. "And you should expect an extra ten chores each day for you to do with all your spare time!" she got up quickly and slammed the door.  
  
Chelsea glared at the door, seeming like she could catch it on fire at any moment with just her eyes. She gave up catching it on fire, and settled with throwing her stuffed teddy bear at it instead. Turning over, she defiantly messed up her covers in the process, throwing the rest of her stuffed animals everywhere (Fred nearly got pelted with Rover the  
Big Red Dog)  
  
Slowly making his way to the edge of her bed after her fit, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. She pretended not to notice and kept her back turned on him. Fred cleared his throat again, this time considerably louder and phlegmier, so much that when he spit the phlegm out, he nearly choked on it.  
  
"What the hell do you want?" she said irritably. "Um...heheh...I'm.... I didn't know I'd...get you into so much trouble." he shrugged lightly and smiled guiltily.  
  
"Yeah, well, you did, and now I'm not only life-less, but timeless as well. By the time it takes me to finish all my chores, I'll be old enough to legally have menopause."  
  
"Men-o-pause?"  
  
"Nevermind..." she turned back and sighed heavily.  
  
Fred sighed as well and dropped down on the beanbag chair in the corner.  
  
"So...your old man's bonkers, ay? What'd he do, have too many bonks on the head?" Fred laughed at his joke and grinned his Fred grin.  
  
"When I was three, while on a nice drive out, he robbed a bank, held me, his daughter, hostage at gunpoint, the entire police force, or most of it anyways, was called in, to surround the building. They invaded the bank, shot my father in the leg, arm, and shoulder, narrowly missing me, by the way, and cleared out the rest of the banks employees and arrested my father, convicted him guilty of being not in his right mind, and told my mom she could either keep him at home with an at-home nurse 24 hours a day watch or bring him to the local looney bin. Of course, being the bitch she is, she took the latter. He's been there ever since. My mother always told me daddy was someplace special, someplace where nobody could hurt him, and he couldn't hurt them."  
  
Drop Dead Fred was purely shocked (which is actually very rare for him) and could only stare at Chelsea's back.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah. 'Oh.'"  
  
"No, no. I...I mean it. So what if your dad's nuts? Hey..I know! Why don't we go spring him out? Come on! We can get him out of that sannytarium thingy!"  
  
"No."  
  
"No? Whatta' ya' mean, 'no'? We can just-"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Because whyyyyyy?" Fred whined.  
  
"Because I said so!" she yelled at him, then let out a hoarse cough from yelling too much.  
  
"But we can just go out your window and-"  
  
"NO!," she tried to yell even louder, but found her voice could only come out in a rasp. She looked at the milk on the tray on her desk, and reluctantly got up and began drinking it, forcefully ignoring Fred as he sulked on her bed and picked his nose.  
  
"Eww.... you know that's a bad habit, don't you?" she set the glass down and crawled back onto her bed next to him.  
  
"What?' he asked, oblivious. "Nevermind..." Chelsea said once again. "Look. I'm going to bed. It's 3:00 AM in the morning. I'm tired. Let me sleep in peace." "So what are you saying?" Fred questioned stupidly.  
  
"Go away." Chelsea flopped her head on her pillow and began to turn off the lights, not caring about her sheets and covers on the floor, or Fred, who had stood up and had taken offense to what she had said.  
  
"Oh. Well," he said sarcastically. "I guess I shall leave you to you beauty rest. See you in the next gazillion years. Bye." he waved and blinked out of sight, with a little sparkle and the sound of a jack-in-the-box being played.  
  
Chelsea reached over the rest of the way and shut off the light, laying her head back on her pillow and closing her eyes.  
  
Finally, she thought. Peace and quiet.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ring. Riiiiinggg. Riiiiiiinnng. The telephone. "Hello? Oh hello Doctor Randall, I'm so glad you could call me on such short notice...yes...yes, I know...oh no, the more the better..." Chelsea heard Natalie's voice break out into fake laughter. "Uh-huh...okay. Okay. Good-bye." she heard the phone click onto the jack and the sound of footsteps coming back up the stairs. Soon the footsteps were right at her door, and a light knocking intruded her train of thought. What had she been thinking about anyways? Her father? No, not her father. Her mother. And how she wants her locked up.   
  
"Chelsea?" came Natalie's voice again. The door opened and Chelsea peered out from under her covers. "Come on. Get dressed. Were going out for a while." she ripped the covers off her and started towards Chelsea's closet. "Look at this mess in here..." Natalie mumbled. She quickly grabbed a jean jumper (that's all Chelsea pretty much has in her closet) and another white polo shirt. "Here. Put these on." She dropped them on Chelsea, who was a bit scared, lying there clad in only her nightshirt and underwear. "And get them on quickly. Five minutes. Your breakfast is waiting for you downstairs." Natalie exited the room almost as fast as she had entered. "Huh?" was Chelsea's only reply. I think I know where were going, Chelsea thought to herself as she tugged off her shirt.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
( 9 years before)  
  
"You can go in and see him now." (Sound familiar?) The nurse walked the mother and daughter into the white room, not unlike the room Elizabeth would be lying in a few years from now. Except the walls and floor were...softer. Plush. Padded.  
  
A young man looking no older than eighteen or nineteen was lying on a small bed, looking up at the ceiling blankly. His brown eyes were glazed. Drugged. His light brown hair was messed and matted from lying on the bed. But his ears perked as he heard the squeal of delight from a little girl. The girl rushed onto the bed, begging to be picked up. "Daddy!" she spoke one of the few words she knew. His blank expression changed to immense happiness as he picked her up. "Hey Squirt! How 'ya doin'?" he hugged her tightly and looked her over. His brown eyes and light brown hair stood out at him. She even had his ears.  
  
"Nothin'..." she replied quietly, sticking her first three fingers in her mouth and looked around the room. "How are you?" "Good..." she seemed shy around him now. "Have you watched any TV lately?" At this comment, the girl's face lit up.   
  
"Oh yeah! I watched...I watched Barney...and and and... uh...I watched...Sesame Street..." she trailed off, her small mind stimulated to the extreme. "Wow.... you've been pretty busy then, haven't you?" he laughed, but then winced at the sharp pain that slashed through his head. He tried to keep the smile on his face. Luckily, the little girl's interest in the walls succumbed her into falling off the bed onto the padded floors, and began to bounce around and laugh with sheer delight again.  
  
The woman standing at the door had her hair tied tightly with a dark green scarf that matched her dark green suit. She stared sternly at the young man on the bed, with his legs crossed Indian-style, watching the little girl hop around happily. She had to be at only twenty five at the most, and yet she looked even older, more regal, her face pulled together in a forced grin, that looked like it was about to break her face.  
  
"Hello Natalie." the man said, turning his glazed eyes toward her. "Nick." she nodded her head in recognition.  
  
"So," Nick said, putting his hands into the V his legs made. "How is she?"  
  
"Who? Chelsea? Fine. I think we'll be able to stop going to the therapist in a few weeks, now."  
  
"Is she really that damaged?"  
  
"Apparently. At least that's what the therapist says." Natalie strode over to the bed and sat down at the end of it. Her words were spoken with malice. They were meant to make him feel guilty.  
  
"I-is she gonna be okay? You know, when she gets older?"  
  
"What do you think, Sherlock?" Natalie burst out, making Chelsea stop hopping. "She'll probably be traumatized for life! And it's YOUR entire fault! What am I going to tell her when she's older and she asks, 'Where's Daddy?'" Hmm? Do I say, 'Daddy's locked up away in the looney bin because he tried to kill you'? Huh?" her face had gone red and the lines on her face had deepened.  
  
"No! Maybe you could let her come and see me! Let ME tell her about it! Let ME explain what happened!" he struggled with his words. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen..."  
  
"Well, it happened, didn't it? Just like me getting pregnant 'wasn't meant to happen'? Goodbye, Nick." Natalie grabbed the toddler and placed her on her hip. She walked to the door and knocked on the glass to get the attention of the guard. She did, eventually, and he led them out of D block, room #617.  
  
*********************  
  
Chelsea stared unwatchingly at the magazine in front of her. Women's Health. The young children playing on the floor didn't notice her.... didn't care, really. They already had someone to play with. And she wanted out of here. Now.  
  
Drop Dead Fred came over quietly and sat down next to her. He looked over Chelsea's shoulder and looked at the page she had been staring at for the past fifteen minutes. "Ohhhh...so THAT'S why your mom acts so mean." he grinned suggestively. She continued to stare at the page. "What'd they do? What...did they give you a lobotomy?" he edged closer and looked in her ear. She turned her head around and glared at him. "Sorry...just trying to be nice." he shrugged it off and lazily looked around the room. Four or five children sat and played on the floor with their mothers or sat in the chairs patiently. But the mothers weren't the only adults in the room. A man with flaming red hair sat on the floor rocking back contentedly, swinging the cape he wore back in forth with him. Another man sat leaning over a little girl's shoulder while her mother read the story, pointing out the pictures. A pudgy woman in a tutu whirled around happily with a girl, who looked like she was about to taste her PB and J sandwich again. Drop Dead Fred saw in almost fascination at these people. Finally he jumped up, strutted over the rocking man, and slapped him. "Go to Hell Herman!" Fred cried happily. "Fred!" Herman jumped up excitedly. Fred grabbed Herman's nose and tipped it off, making him clench it in pain for a moment, but then, unexpectedly, whacked Fred upside the head, making him stagger backward and clutch his head. The man who had been looking at the pictures came over and stood between them. "Hey, remember me Fred?" he smiled happily and poked Drop Dead Fred in the eyes, Moe-style. "Velcro-Head!" he opened his arms in exaggeration. Finally, the ballerina pirouetted over to them and batted her eyelashes, framing her face with her hands. "MAMBY PAMBY!" they all yelled happily, and created a circle around her as she started to twirl around inside it. "Whooooaaaaaa!" they all said happily, spinning and twirling around like a bunch of demented bees. "Hey...where's Graggy?" Fred wondered, pretending to search around the room, and then peeked under Mamby's tutu. She slapped his hand away and laughed.   
  
"Well.... remember last time?" Go to Hell Herman began. "Yeah.... hey, this is where we all last saw each other!" Fred realized. "Yup. And remember what we said about the green pills?" "Of course. That was a close one! But I wasn't afraid, not one tiny bit, 'cause Drop Dead Fred fears nothing!" "Fred.... you've got to listen to me. They've come up with a new kinda pill. A white one. These kind make you act all serious and grown-up like, and when it happens, POOF, your gone Fred. Fred.... it kills you. It kills your imagination." Fred gulped audibly. "W-well I'm not scared of that. I beat the green pills and I can beat these stupid little white ones too." he grinned, fear visibly showing in his features. "I hope-" The opening of the office door broke their conversation off abruptly.  
  
"Now have her take one of these after every meal and before bedtime." Dr. Randall pointed to the label on the bottle of white capsules in his hand as he came out of the room with Natalie. "Yes, alright. Thank you." He handed her the bottle and they shook hands. Natalie sighed sadly. "Just look. An IQ of 200 and she's been reduced to where these children are." "Yes...sad, isn't it?" Dr. Randall glanced around the waiting area at the small children. "Yes...very sad...." he said under his breath. "Well...thank you very much, Dr. Randall. We'll be coming back for a checkup next.... Friday?" "Yes. That'd be fine." "Very well. Chelsea, come on. Were done here." Natalie grabbed Chelsea's arm and picked her up. Chelsea complied, but did not respond or even twitched. She just kept staring out into space.  
  
Chelsea sat in her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting on them. The door opened to reveal a rather large woman in a white outfit, followed by Natalie and Fred, who was making rather rude finger gestures behind her head. Natalie carried a pack-n-go table compiled of healthy foods--broccoli, a glass of orange juice, carrots, an apple, a salad and a grilled cheese sandwich with ham. "Good morning, Sunshine!" Natalie said brightly, setting the table above Chelsea, giving the expression that said, 'lay out straight' and placed it on her lap.  
  
"Here. A nice healthy nutritious breakfast! And today we can start giving you your special medicine. Won't that be nice?" she turned to the nurse. "Make sure she eats all of her vegetables and drinks all of her orange juice. After she eats give her the first pill."  
  
"Will do." the large nurse nodded and smiled. Fred pulled down his right eyelid and stuck his tongue out. 


End file.
